- Aug 10, 2022
- 65
- 32
- 18
ą©ā”Ė³ . Ā° ā¦ It hasnāt been easy for Darkwhisker to adjust to the burnt sycamore. So far away from his home, without the murmuring of the river to lull him to sleep. Separated from a majority of his family; Iciclefang and Fernpaw travel through distant lands, their whereabouts unknown. Mudpelt and Steepsnout lay in Starlingheartās den, the scent of sickness thick on their pelts.
He does not even have the comforting presence of his star-blessed pebble. It remains tucked away in the warriorsā den, left in the midst of retreat. Would the rogues toss it out, unaware and uncaring of how important it is? StarClan might forgive him for leaving such a precious artifact by mistake, but would they forgive him if it was lost or destroyed?
Worries crowd his mind, and Darkwhisker longs for normalcy. Everything is strange, out-of-place, and it is unnerving. So he clings to every shred of familiarity he can like a drowning cat would a piece of driftwood. Weaving nests, searching for trinkets to decorate with, attaching himself to his clanmates by the hip. Darkwhisker must stay afloat. He couldnāt lose sight of his hope; that is StarClanās will for him, to be the ray of light in the darkness.
He prays every day, despite the loss of his pebble; prays that yellowcough doesnāt tear Icesparkle or Lilybloom away from him, that the journeying cats will return quickly and safely with an abundance of lungwort, that the sick make a full recovery, and that the clans reclaim their territories from the rogues.
And StarClan must be listening, for today Darkwhisker opens his eyes after a prayer to glimpse a prism of colors painting the morning sky. He gasps, his dual-toned eyes widening. āLook!ā The dark-furred tom turns to the first cat he sees, gesturing towards the sky with a paw. He smiles, and it feels like the first genuine one in a long time. āA rainbow! This must mean good things are on our horizon!ā
He does not even have the comforting presence of his star-blessed pebble. It remains tucked away in the warriorsā den, left in the midst of retreat. Would the rogues toss it out, unaware and uncaring of how important it is? StarClan might forgive him for leaving such a precious artifact by mistake, but would they forgive him if it was lost or destroyed?
Worries crowd his mind, and Darkwhisker longs for normalcy. Everything is strange, out-of-place, and it is unnerving. So he clings to every shred of familiarity he can like a drowning cat would a piece of driftwood. Weaving nests, searching for trinkets to decorate with, attaching himself to his clanmates by the hip. Darkwhisker must stay afloat. He couldnāt lose sight of his hope; that is StarClanās will for him, to be the ray of light in the darkness.
He prays every day, despite the loss of his pebble; prays that yellowcough doesnāt tear Icesparkle or Lilybloom away from him, that the journeying cats will return quickly and safely with an abundance of lungwort, that the sick make a full recovery, and that the clans reclaim their territories from the rogues.
And StarClan must be listening, for today Darkwhisker opens his eyes after a prayer to glimpse a prism of colors painting the morning sky. He gasps, his dual-toned eyes widening. āLook!ā The dark-furred tom turns to the first cat he sees, gesturing towards the sky with a paw. He smiles, and it feels like the first genuine one in a long time. āA rainbow! This must mean good things are on our horizon!ā
ā§ćĀ°ć.ćā¶ć.ćĀ°ćā§
- retro to steep's death; open to anyone at the burnt sycamore!
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tall, lithe dusky brown tom with splashes of white. a cheerful tom who tries to put a smile on the face of everyone he talks to, darkwhisker's life is devoted to spreading positivity in a world full of negativity. though his words may be fancifulā and coated in the sugar of white lies, at timesā he is a well-intentioned, albeit overly idealistic, young warrior.